


The Secret Club of Salis Heights

by digitalsoop



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Narrator is an observer, Not a self insert, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Slice of Life, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, teen for swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalsoop/pseuds/digitalsoop
Summary: Salis Heights is a small neighborhood in a city far from Mt. Ebott. Three years pass after the barrier is broken before a monster moves in, and the entire neighborhood takes notice. He's hard to miss, being made of fire.And once a week we do our laundry together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> shows up 20 years late with silent NPC focused fic
> 
> So many people hate on first person. I say give it a chance.

In the fall I turned twenty-three. I left college. I left a paid internship. The monsters left the underground.

There was an initial panic, fear that monsters had grown powerful in their time beneath the mountain. They hadn’t.

A human broke the barrier. Naturally.

A human child. Surprisingly.

I watched the news. I followed the debates and meetings, read the statements and the think pieces. The consensus had been to treat the monsters as refugees. At first, they lived in camps. People protested. After that, they lived in shelters set up in gymnasiums and churches. Towns compensated citizens for leaving neighborhoods to be sectioned off for monsters. Housing projects were expanded. The monsters settled in. The news slowed down.

The rest of the world that was far away from the mountain, from the moment, moved on. Monsters weren’t moving into our cities. They probably wouldn’t for a very long time, if ever.

And then three years later I walked to the laundromat, saw there was a fire inside, and dropped my laundry on the sidewalk.

It took longer than I’d like to admit to realize that the fire was wearing clothes. Wearing glasses, even. Most of the monsters on the news resembled animals; as bizarre as it had been to see rabbits and dogs walking into towns in droves with their belongings on their backs, we had spent so much time projecting onto our pets that seeing animals do mundane human tasks seemed like the natural progression of things.

The more bizarre monsters must have been waiting for things to settle down before starting to leave the mountain.

I was too embarrassed to go into the laundromat. The entire front was just windows. I gathered up my laundry and went back to my apartment. I could live without my favorite clothes for a week. Which is why I have to lug twice as much laundry in now, and this time I am very careful to keep a tight grip when I see the fire inside again. The bell rings as I sidle in and hold the door open with my back. It turns its head, which has no face despite the fact it is wearing glasses, then goes back to its book. Just like anyone else that spent hours doing laundry in public. The conversations inside are hushed. Kids that would normally be sprinting around the machines are huddled behind them, watching.

All of the machines near the fire are open. I don’t really have a choice of where to go, but I try my luck anyway, walking around the machines so I don’t have to cross in front of it. Some of the kids creep after me, under the watchful eyes of adults. I claim a machine at the respectful distance of two away. The flame of its head gutters slightly and casts an orange glow across the metal and white tiles. Again I realize very late that it’s leaning against a washer reading its book instead of sitting in the chairs along the windows and open walls. It’s the only one on this side of the laundromat, besides me. There are chairs open but they all face the other side and the humans that are quietly watching it. Nervously watching it.

If I wasn’t already lugging two weeks of laundry with me, I probably would have left, but carrying three weeks of laundry somewhere would be ridiculous. I can’t change my laundry day. It was the only day I had that fit into my work schedule. I can go further out to another laundromat next time. No, I can’t start going ten minutes out of my way to avoid an awkward situation at the laundromat.

I’m being ridiculous.

I start my laundry. I sit on a nearby chair facing the fire and my fellow humans on the other side. I forget to put on my headphones. I watch it read. I share bewildered glances with the people across from me. The book is clearly made of paper. The metal of the washer isn’t glowing red with heat. Even sitting nearby there’s no noticeable temperature difference. One of the kids finally asks me in a stage whisper if it’s hot. The fire doesn’t move.

I shake my head. They whisper the news to each other. They’re careening around the machines as usual only a minute later, despite the sharp scoldings to behave.

“You’re going to get hurt!”

“It’s fine, it’s not hot!”

“That is not what I meant.”

We all know that’s what they meant. The fire is nice enough to remain unmoved. It hasn’t turned a page of the book in a while. A dryer buzzes, the book is set aside, and we all very rudely watch as it folds clothes that do not burn.

“Hey, why aren’t they catching fire?”

“Daniel!”

The fire doesn’t answer, and Daniel turns to acknowledge the scolding. “What?”

After a moment of exasperated hand waving, the woman hisses, “Get over here.”

He drags his feet. “I just want to know how it works.”

“You leave it alone. Now sit down.”

There are still two kids huddled behind the machines looking up at it. “Hey. Hey, monster.” A girl with a bob cut is whispering and waving a hand to get its attention. It turns its head to look at her, but it continues to carefully fold a pair of black slacks. “Are they special clothes?”

The fire nods in slow, short movements. It sets the pants onto the pile of folded clothes and pats them with a tilt of its head.

“Are you on fire? Does it hurt?” The other kid is also a girl, her hair pulled up into a ponytail decorated with a bow.

It shakes its head and picks up a white button down. 

“Is the book special?”

Again it shakes its head.

“Why aren’t you hot?”

This time the monster hesitates. The kids wait quietly, watching as it finishes folding the button down shirt and sets it on the pile. They think of a more pertinent question: “Can you talk?”

It hesitates again, the flame of its head leaping. Finally, it shakes its head. The girls nod sagely, and I try not to join them. It makes sense that something made of fire wouldn’t be able to talk. “Can you burn stuff?”

Yes.

“Do you have to be careful?”

Yes.

“How hot can you get?”

“Sarah, it has to be yes or no.”

“Oh. Can you get as hot as the sun?"

No.

“What about a stove?”

Yes.

“Can you cook stuff?”

Yes.

“Like, on yourself?”

The flames of its head gutter again, and it looks down at them, adjusting its glasses. The girls look startled, and then they start to giggle. I can only see the side of its head, and it takes a lot of effort to stop myself from leaning to the side to try and see what they’re giggling at. The fire turns back to its clothes, picking up a bag it had set on top of the neighboring washer and begins to carefully put them away. The book is placed inside the bag last, and it waves to the girls.

They wave back. It turns, catches me staring, and nods. I nod back, and it walks away. As soon as the door closes behind it the girls leap up and run over to the harried woman that had scolded Daniel. 

“Auntie, that monster is nice!”

“It has a face!”

“Yeah, we saw it smile, it looks like a jack-o-lantern!”

“Yeah, it was like,” she trails off and hunches her shoulders, and Sarah laughs and nods and mimics her. I can only imagine what they look like. Daniel kicks his feet.

“I wanted to see it!”

“Hush, you shouldn’t be talking to strangers. You all know better than to bother people.”

“Aw, but it wasn’t bothered!”

“Yeah, it wasn’t bothered at all!”

I remember my headphones and put them on as the bickering continues. With two weeks of laundry to do, I would be here a while. The monster hadn’t had many clothes to wash, which was incredibly rude for me to notice. The tension that had filled the building while the monster was here didn’t fade until people began to leave and be replaced by someone else. No one coming in was a monster. I hadn’t thought to check online last week, but I scrolled through social media while I waited for my laundry.

There weren’t really any news articles about monsters coming to our city specifically, but there were some general blurbs about monsters beginning to expand out of the projects because of crowding. It seems like the mountain had held more monsters than anyone had realized. Still, we were pretty far out. There probably wasn’t a large enough exodus in our direction to justify restructuring the projects for monsters.

People might move away on their own when monsters started moving in.

There were, however, local posts about the fire monster. Seemed he had been alarming most of the town for two weeks.

> “ _We are aware of the fire monster that has moved into the neighborhood of Salis Heights. They have introduced themselves to us and we can confirm that they are not a hazard._ _Please do not call emergency lines with sightings, and respect his privacy by not reporting sightings on social media.”_

A copy-pasted statement between the fire department, police department, and city hall. The comments were mostly skeptical, and of course full of sightings of them around town. I flicked my screen with a sigh.

> **Adam Delin commented 1 w** **ee** **k** **ago**
> 
> _He lives in my apartment building. Doesn’t talk. Doesn’t set off the smoke detector. Ideal neighbor really._

> **tiyati0810** **replied** **1 w** **ee** **k** **ago**
> 
> _can confirm. i live next door to him and i hardly notice he’s there. he helped me with my bags the other day even though he was on his way out. he had to walk all the way back up to the third floor to do it. didn’t act like a creep either i told him to just set them on the floor and he left before i unlocked my door. it’s weird he doesn’t talk but i’ll take an awkward neighbor over a creep._

> **somibeans** **replied** **1 w** **ee** **k** **ago**
> 
> _w/e_ _he cooks always smells great_ _i_ _k_ _inda wanna knock and ask him to share._ _we_ _can eat monster food right?_

> **Ilse Mann replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _you all keep using he but the post uses they. how do you know it’s a guy?_  
> 
> **s** **omibeans replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _ @Ilse Mann _ _dresses like a guy, looks like a guy, asked him if he was a guy, he said yes._
> 
> **Ilse Mann replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _ @somibeans _ _I thought he didn’t talk?_
> 
> **somibeans replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _ @Ilse Mann _ _it’s a yes or no question he knows how to nod_

Huh. All right. A little insensitive but what else was new.

> **fuliyahguy replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _ @Adam Delin _ _turn on your location dude just wanna talk_ _to this thing_
> 
> **Adam Delin replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _ @fuliyahguy _ _Hell no, I don’t need any of you creeps showing up at my apartment._
> 
> **tonyfreshpizza90 replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _ @Adam Delin _ _ @fuliyahguy _ _He probably has it on his profile anyway lol_
> 
> **Adam Delin replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _ @tonyfreshpizza90 _ _Definitely not, nice try._
> 
> **fuliyahguy replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _ @Adam Delin _ _I can just look up your name dude lol_
> 
> **Neva City Police Department replied 1 week ago**
> 
> _Please remember that we are aware of their address and any trespassers will be arrested. Stalking is also a crime._

That fell apart about as quickly as expected. I turn my phone over in my lap. At least they were nice enough to stand up for it. Them. Him.

I remind myself while I’m folding clothes, over and over, that he is not an "it".

He is not an "it".


	2. Chapter 2

I am twenty-six years old, as of today. I have a job. I have an apartment. There is a monster that does laundry the same day I do. I still don’t know his name.

I don’t know anyone’s name at the laundromat.

Except for two kids that come in with their aunt. Still.

I do know quite a lot about him: he can read, he can write, he folds his clothes impeccably, he does not run the water of the washer until all of his clothes and soap are inside and the lid is closed, he wears gloves to put the clothes into the dryer, he’s a good cook, he doesn’t talk, he’s a guy, and he is not on fire but is made of fire.

Fire through and through. Nothing but flames. And magic, I guess.

He still reads his book. He nods now every time we first see each other and when one of us leaves. He waves to the kids, and they are the only ones that talk to him. They’re full of yes or no questions, like most kids are. And kids don’t need to know a person’s name to be friends with them, so they haven’t uncovered that information for me yet.

Being that today I am another year older, it does cross my mind that I could just be an adult and ask. I don’t know how he would answer; I don’t carry pens and paper around, the laundromat has no need for them, and he doesn’t seem to carry anything but his book and a wallet. But I could still ask.

School had started a month ago, so there were no kids running around the machines today. Their harried aunt still sat waiting for her laundry, but without them to watch she was free to be engrossed by her phone. He still stands at the machine and reads his book. I still sit by myself on our side of the laundromat.

“Hey.”

He lifts his chin and lowers his book. I still haven’t seen the face the kids claim he has, so it’s probably to make it clear he’s looking at me. I stare for a few moments, gripping the edge of my chair. He waits, flame guttering like usual. My throat is very dry.

I lift a hand away from my chair and gesture to the empty ones to my right. “You can sit if you want. Instead of standing for an hour.”

He doesn’t move. The machines and tiles flicker orange around him like always. Besides the hum of whirring laundry, it is quiet. If the entire laundromat was watching, waiting to see what would happen, I would not be surprised. Then he moves away from the washing machine, heels of his dress shoes clicking on the tile, and sits two seats to my right. The polite distance. He sets his book on his lap and inclines his head towards me.

“You don’t have to—You don’t need to wait to sit down. Feel free.”

He inclines his head again. His glasses reflect the light and for a moment he has white, glasses shaped eyes. I try to see a face, but it’s impossible. I mutter you’re welcome. He opens his book again and begins to read. The entire building seems to let out a sigh of relief. People slouch in their chairs. Conversations become a bit louder.

I understand instinctively what’s happened, but at the same time, I really have no idea what I’ve done. I put on my headphones and listen to radio shows for the next hour while we take care of our laundry. We finish around the same time. He holds the door open for me as we leave, then we nod at each other and go our separate ways.

I check online for news of anymore monsters moving into the neighborhood, or even just the city. There isn’t any. There’s a fan page for the fire monster set up by people that I don’t think are his neighbors. It’s not full of sightings, just theories of what he’s doing here. Someone suggests we’re just one stop on a long journey cross country and that once he has enough money he’ll move on.

No one knows what his job is. Someone snidely suggests fire whisperer. Another jumps on the train and suggests he’s helping with controlled burns outside of the city. There haven’t been any fires outside of the city. But that’s because he’s a fire whisperer, of course.

A more practical suggestion is that he tests the fire resistance of new building materials for monster housing, in case magic fire is different from regular fire. The difference probably being that magic fire wouldn’t burn anything down because it can be perfectly controlled, rendering that job useless.

One person suggests he’s helping design weapons that make use of magic fire. They’re run off the page. The consensus is that if he was helping design anything that used magic fire it would be a new form of clean energy.

Which brings up the question: is he the only fire monster?

No one can remember sightings of other fire monsters. The early monsters described a place underground uncreatively called Hotland, which is where a fire monster would presumably live. But the brief description only mentions that it was the center of their scientific advancements, and they used magma to power their reactors and provide energy to the underground. That gave the clean energy theory some backing at least. The idea of a scientist wearing a button-down white shirt, black slacks and dress shoes isn’t too unusual.

A silent scientist with glinting eyeglasses seemed a little too, well—both ridiculous and sinister. He didn’t seem to be either of those things.

He cooked well. But maybe fire monsters were just like that. And, again, I never saw anything that would suggest a work uniform suitable of a chef, but a chef could wear what ever they wanted and put an apron over it. Wearing a white shirt seemed to be asking for disaster though, or at the very least incredibly smug.

The possibility of him being smug was a popular one. People couldn’t seem to agree whether he couldn’t talk or simply didn’t talk, and those were usually arguments I did my best to avoid. Watching people argue in circles about manners was a headache. Even if he didn’t talk, he had always been polite.

His neighbors never joined in the discussions. Only one of them was following the page and it was Adam, the only one anyone knew by name who had somehow still eluded discovery.

I don’t share with the page that we use the same laundromat, in the spirit of protecting his privacy (and protecting the open washers and dryers on laundry day).

> **Lilylee posted 2 hours ago**
> 
> _ran into him at the park! I told him about the fan page and he_ _gave a thumbs up_ _, so I asked him if I could take a pic and post it._ _he didn’t let his fans down._
> 
> **readredrose replied 1 hour ago**
> 
> _lol who taught him that_
> 
> ** Lilylee replied 1 hour ago **
> 
> _idk he did it as soon as I asked him for a pic_
> 
> **Bitty Baddy replied 1 hour ago**
> 
> _didn’t we find out that monsters had been watching anime down there? lol_
> 
> **Lilylee replied 1 hour ago**
> 
> _the peace sign didn’t start with anime tho. if I see him again I’ll ask him if he likes anime_
> 
> **readredro** **s** **e replied 1 hour ago**
> 
> _mission: otaku or no-taku? is now in action_
> 
> **lindroller replied 30 minutes ago**
> 
> _did you get his name?_
> 
> **Lilylee replied 5 minutes ago**
> 
> _I did! Now I have the password to the secret club ;)_
> 
> **Ollie Kivir replied 30 seconds ago**
> 
> _The peace sign didn’t start with anime but the double peace sign definitely did. Human Torch 2.0 confirmed otaku_

I feel even more ridiculous for not asking his name while I was in the same building with him for an hour.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Next laundry day it’s raining, as it happens often in the fall. Taking my clothes in a bag instead of a plastic tub is an option. So is finding the lid to the plastic tub. As is skipping this week’s laundry day.

I check the fan page.

> **lindenroller posted** **5 minutes ago**
> 
> _Does he go out in the rain? Is he a big enough fire that it won’t put him out unless it’s a downpour?_
> 
> **Adam Delin replied** **1** **minute** **ago**
> 
> _He wears a long raincoat and uses an umbrella and gloves._ _I guess it’s more like getting hit by hail for him._
> 
> **lindenroller replied 1 minute ago**
> 
> _What’s he gonna do when it snows?_
> 
> **Adam Delin replied 1 minute ago**
> 
> _I didn’t ask. Maybe it disappears before it reaches him. I’m pretty sure he knows it snows around here though, since we’re up north like the mountain is._
> 
> **readredrose replied** **1 minute** **ago**
> 
> _@Adam Delin any input on the otaku or no-taku debate? _
> 
> **Adam Delin replied moments ago**
> 
> _@readredrose We both had to figure out what an otaku was, but he doesn’t think he’s an otaku. Anime was just really prevalent in the Underground because we were all throwing it away I guess. _
> 
> **readredrose replied moments ago**
> 
> _our crimes against monsterkind never truly ended._
> 
> **lindenroller replied moments ago**
> 
> _ @Adam Delin _ _is he okay with you talking about him here?_
> 
> **Adam Delin replied moments ago**
> 
> _@lindenroller he knows about the page now and he reads it, he just doesn’t want to be on it himself. He thinks it would ruin the fun. It’s nice to see humans making fan pages for monsters, and no one is stalking him, so he’s basically leaving you all to it since it’s harmless._
> 
> **Lilylee replied moments ago**
> 
> _ @Adam Delin _ _tell him Lily from the park said hi!_

Requesting a hello get passed along was tempting, but saying “tell him the person he nods to at the laundromat says hi, too” was a little…

Anyway, I still didn’t have that password to the secret club. The fact that I was even considering lugging my laundry around in the rain to keep up our weekly nodding routine was cringe-worthy. But, I was still the only person that used that side of the laundromat, and with the kids in school, he’d just have to sit there and feel ostracized again. And this was all assuming he would even want to be in the rain just to do laundry. But, he didn’t have a lot of clothes. He really wouldn’t have a choice, if he wanted to keep up his pristine black and white wardrobe.

So I put the essentials in a backpack, take my umbrella, and walk to the laundromat. He isn’t there when I walk in. And he isn’t there when I leave only half an hour later with my small load of laundry folded and tucked back in my bag.

I had to stop myself from loitering around.

> **Adam Delin replied 45 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @Lilylee _ _He says hello, and he’s glad you were happy with the picture._
> 
> **Truce Erist replied 40 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @Adam Delin _ _Is he gonna do AMAs through you now?_
> 
> **Adam Delin replied 40 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @Truce Erist _ _No, he isn’t doing any AMAs or interviews. We just happened to be in the same place when I was checking the page and I was curious about the rain situation so I asked him._ _ @lindenroller _ _He says I was right and snow isn’t really a problem, by the way._
> 
> **Truce Erist replied 38 minutes ago**
> 
> _@Adam Delin For not wanting to do any kind of interview he seems to be answering a lot of questions. How do we even know if you’re actually talking to him anyway?_
> 
> **Adam Delin replied 20 minutes ago**
> 
> _@Truce Erist He only answered two questions, that isn’t a lot at all. I’m going to write exactly what he explained to me. You can take it with a grain of salt, because I don’t think I should take a picture of him just to prove that we’re neighbors and I am in fact sitting with him. _
> 
> _He doesn’t mind the fan page, and he doesn’t mind questions about stuff like how he deals with the weather, or if he’s an otaku, because it’s harmless fun. He isn’t comfortable opening up himself to a lot questions with almost 100 strangers, especially when he’s the only monster in town right now. He appreciates that people are curious and want to get to know him, but he doesn’t want to be a celebrity or be treated like a spectacle. He wants to get to know people and share information naturally during normal conversations, like anyone else does._
> 
> _Besides that, I’ve already gotten people trying to add and message me since I posted here. I don’t want to be a gateway to him, that’s why I never posted anything until now, and I only did because he thought it was fair to be curious about how he deals with the rain and said I could share._
> 
> _If you run into him out and about in the neighborhood remember that he’s not an attraction and he’s not a celebrity. He’s just a normal guy that happens to be made of fire._
> 
> **Truce Erist replied 15 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @Adam Delin _ _I understand, but since he’s the only monster here right now, isn’t he kind_ _of_ _a representative for them? I don’t think it’s unreasonable for people to want him to answer questions._
> 
> **Adam Delin replied 12 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @Truce Erist _ _This is just me talking now, but there are official monster ambassadors that give interviews and do AMAs and write FAQs already. That’s their job, not his job. You can want someone to answer questions, but that doesn’t mean they have to, especially if they’re just a regular person trying to live their life._
> 
> **readredrose replied 13 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @Adam Delin _ _thanks for putting yourself out there like this for him. I’m sure he appreciates it._ _a_ _nd thank him for being so gracious about the page._
> 
> **Adam Delin replied 13 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @readredrose _ _You’re welcome._
> 
> **Ollie Kivir replied 10 minutes ago**
> 
> _Protect Human Torch 2.0 at all costs_


	4. Chapter 4

I start checking the fan page regularly. Adam doesn’t answer any more questions, but over the next two days there are a lot of discussions over monsters, and the fan page as a concept, and treating our neighbor like a novelty. Someone floats the idea of making the page a monster support group, but that’s quickly usurped by Human Torch 2.0 Defense Squad.

The page gets a little wild after that, with people sharing all the things they would do to protect him, and what they would protect him from, and why he’s worth protecting. Adam reappears to share that the new page name is hilarious, but points out that we won’t be a single monster town forever.

The page officially becomes the Salis Heights' Monsters Defense Squad, with the Human Torch 2.0 Defense Squad a very popular moniker used by a lot of members in their usernames and profiles. There are talks of a logo for both, but so far all of the suggestions have been pretty bad. The HTDS edits the picture of him flashing double peace signs so it fits on a generic shield, and emblazons it with their name.

Good enough.

I put the badge on my profile. Most people make it their icon. The page is full of fire monsters flashing double peace signs. A new user calling themselves Human Torch 2.0’s Biggest Fan starts posting different edits of the picture, making liberal use of blingee. Most of the images are littered with glittery burgers, though no one’s sure why. The muse himself recreates one of the edits with borrowed sunglasses, a backward hat, and two plated burgers.

> **Adam Delin posted 20 minutes ago**
> 
> _He was inspired. Also, best burger of my entire life._

By the time the next laundry day rolls around, the page is at a peak frenzy with membership rising to 200. Human Torch 2.0’s Biggest Fan suddenly changes their username to mrsansman.

> **mrsansman posted 5 minutes ago**
> 
> _the page has really spread like wildfire around here._ _salis heights is probably gonna be a big hot spot for monsters moving out, so try not to douse their burning excitement and give them a warm welcome, too._
> 
> **mikioki replied 4 minutes ago**
> 
> _has there been news about it?_
> 
> **mrsansman relied 4 minutes ago**
> 
> _you could say I have access to all the hottest sources._
> 
> **mikioki replied 4 minutes ago**
> 
> _what does that even mean_
> 
> **Ollie Kivir replied 4 minutes ago**
> 
> _I’m guessing they live by one of the monster neighborhoods back by the mountain._ _Explains all the new members._
> 
> **Bitty Baddy replied 4 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @Ollie Kivir how does that explain the new members? you think they’re all monsters?_
> 
> **Ollie Kivir replied 3 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @Bitty Baddy Maybe. All the profiles are new. Monsters mostly use UnderNet. _
> 
> **readredrose replied 3 minutes ago**
> 
> _were those all fire puns?_
> 
> **Ollie Kivir replied 3 minutes ago**
> 
> _Well he was Human Torch 2.0’s biggest fan._
> 
> **mrsansman replied 3 minutes ago**
> 
> _i still am. it’s deep in my bones._
> 
> **mikioki replied 2 minutes ago**
> 
> _why did you change your name?_
> 
> **mrsansman replied 2 minutes ago**
> 
> _i felt it was time to step into the light. and he already found me out. nothing gets by that guy._
> 
> **Adam Delin replied 2 minutes ago**
> 
> _ @mrsansman He says the puns in all the picture captions weren’t very subtle. _
> 
> **mrsansman replied 1 minute ago**
> 
> _heh. you got me there. those are also deep in my bones._
> 
> **Bitty Baddy replied 1 minute ago**
> 
> _@mrsansman have you known each other for a while?_
> 
> **mrsansman replied 30 seconds ago**
> 
> _@Bitty Baddy yup._
> 
> **Bitty Baddy replied moments ago**
> 
> _@mrsansman are you a monster too?_
> 
> **mrsansman replied moments ago**
> 
> _ @Bitty Baddy yup._
> 
> **Ollie Kivir replied moments ago**
> 
> _I think that makes mrsansman the only worthy candidate for president of the HTDS._
> 
> **Bitty Baddy replied moments ago**
> 
> _mrsansman for president lol_
> 
> **mrsansman replied moments ago**
> 
> _shucks you’re makin me blush. unfortunately work and leadership_ _always leave me_ _burnt out._
> 
> ** Ollie Kivir replied moments ago **
> 
> _mrsansman for figurehead!_
> 
> ** Bitty Baddy replied moments ago **
> 
> _mrsansman for figurehead!_
> 
> ** mrsansman replied moments ago **
> 
> _mrsansman for figurehead._

mrsansman becomes the HTDS figurehead. I gather up my laundry tub and leave the apartment. Around the corner Human Torch 2.0 himself is walking up the sidewalk with his bag slung over his shoulder. We’ve never arrived at the same time before. He’s been first every single week before, except for last week when he didn’t show. I don’t realize that I’ve slowed down until he’s holding the door open and watching me.

“Sorry, thank you.” I nearly barrel him over with my stupid tub in my hurry to get inside. I should just get a laundry bag like the one he has, but my stupid tub doubles as my hamper. “Uh, missed you last week.”

His head is tilted towards me as we walk to our side of the laundromat.

“Not missing you in a weird way.” My tub thuds onto the floor in front of the empty machine between us. “It’s just a way of saying you weren’t here. It makes sense, because of the rain. I almost didn’t come myself.”

I scoop my first load of laundry into the washer. He separates his darks and his whites. It’s the only reason we’re both here for the same amount of time. “I just did my favorites. Makes me think I should get rid of some clothes, it was nice getting out of here in like, half an hour. And I didn’t have to bring this dumb thing.” I kick the tub lightly. He turns and lifts up his laundry bag, gesturing to it like a salesman. “I’ve thought about it. Just haven’t done it.”

He lowers his bag and takes out his book. Actually, the cover is different, so he must have finished his other one. Before he goes to sit down he nods, and I realize that I had been so busy nearly running him over that we hadn’t greeted each other yet. I nod and put on my headphones. We still sit two seats apart, and once I’ve settled in and stared ahead long enough, I realize that’s the most I’ve ever spoken to him.

And I still don’t know his name. I’ve never even told him my name. I just had a one-sided conversation with him without ever bothering to introduce myself or ask who he is. I stare into the middle-distance so hard I practically transcend to another plane of existence. I don’t even remember doing laundry, but soon I’m holding the door open for him with my back and we’re nodding to each other as we leave.

I decide I shouldn’t check the fan page for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolute faith that blingee will survive long into the future.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s raining again.

I spend a long time in my small kitchen looking at the gloomy alley beyond the window. It’s been getting colder, so this rain is especially repulsive. Maybe if I petition the landlord enough they’ll let me get the hookups for my own laundry in the living room closet. Other places do it. It’s not like everyone is using the dumb thing to hold coats and shoes right? Is that even what it’s for?

Mine is full of cleaning supplies. A washer and dryer would fit right in.

After a lot of sluggish meandering and double checking the size of the closet, I head out with my backpack and an umbrella later than usual. The weather app assures me there’s no point trying to wait it out. I would have checked the fan page, but I’m sticking to my guns. Even though it’s become the defense squad, it’s been hard to break away from the initial—I think flash fire and I scowl at myself for it. The initial excitement caused by Salis Height’s first, and still only, monster.

And checking it religiously and then sitting silently next to the guy for an hour a week has started to feel slimy. But I do check the general news about monsters and their newest migration away from the mountain. It seems like we’re still a single monster town because of a very stringent vetting process that I can’t entirely discern the purpose of. Push back, maybe, from people that don’t want to leave their homes. I try not to think of the more sordid reasons. The gloomy weather makes it hard.

Once I turn the corner and can see the windows of the laundromat, I slow to a stop. All of the windows are bright orange. Nearly two months ago I had thought the building was on fire and had been wrong, but now I’m standing in the rain, struck by panic. No one is standing in the street, or rushing outside. I step forward, leaning to see into the windows. I can’t really see.

I take another step, and another, and then I stop and stand in the rain again.

The fire is wearing clothes, like always. Except it’s raining, and he doesn’t go out in the rain if he can help it. Certainly not to do laundry. There aren’t many other people in there today. The aunt isn’t there. There’s a guy who has a laundry day outfit that isn’t there. But the fire monster is.

The rain drumming on my umbrella and my body coming down from my panic leave me stranded there for a while, watching. This is the ultimate creep scenario but even that realization doesn’t get me to move. I tilt my umbrella back and watch the flames flicker and jump like I’m standing by a fireplace. And then I blink and realize the flames are jumping because he’s waving.

Actually, he’s opened the door and is waving me in. A bit urgently.

Right, I’m just standing in the rain. I hurry inside, careful to lower and close my umbrella without flicking any water on him, because he’s hovering nearby. It’s very warm. I realize my feet are wet, but only because now they’re drying. Thunder rumbles above us and we both look up as the rain picks up to a roar.

I must look absolutely perplexed because he points behind me to the sky, which is pitch dark now. “It wasn’t like that when I left.” He nods in agreement and we watch a flash of lightning cross the sky. I look back at him in surprise. “Was that coming in behind me?”

Again, he nods. I hesitate and look down at my shoes. “Are you drying my shoes?”

He also looks down, then looks back up and shrugs. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. Maybe he runs hotter on rainy days as a defense mechanism. We’re still standing in the doorway so I don’t ask him. I do nod, though. “Thanks.” He shrugs and waves a hand, walking with me to our side of the laundromat. “I’m serious, man. Thank you.”

His head is inclined towards me as we round the machines and I set my umbrella down at the end of the row of seats. His hands are behind his back as he watches me swing my backpack off my shoulder. I narrow my eyes. “What?”

He gestures back outside. I glance at the window, then back at him, frowning. A few moments pass and then he’s patting his pockets. What? Does he want me to pay him for stopping me from zoning out? Was he actually a jerk? Then he turns away from me, goes to his bag and starts digging around in it. His shoulders are a bit tense. He straightens and puts a hand on his hip, running the other across his head. The flame bends underneath his hand before springing back up.

I let out a surprised laugh. He turns to me and puts both hands on his hips. I gesture helplessly to my own head. He lifts his chin and crackles. It almost sounds like a soft ‘Ah’. He runs his hand over his head again, and again the flame bends back and flicks back up. He gestures toward my head and makes a brushing motion.

“Hair?”

He nods, then points to his head. He slowly shakes it. No.

“Not hair.”

A thumbs up. He gestures to himself as if to say, here I am. No, to bring attention to his entirety. “It’s all just fire.” These aren’t exactly charade rules, but I seem to be doing okay because I get another thumbs up. “So why does it… bend like that.”

This he doesn’t seem to know how to explain. He puts a hand on his chin. He looks around the laundromat. There are only two other people here and they’re both engrossed with their phones. For all I know they’re part of the fan page and are eagerly recounting this interaction moment by moment. I grimace, but he doesn’t notice. Instead, he steps closer, gestures to me, then to his head.

I don’t move. He does it again. He can’t be serious. “That’s fire.”

To his credit, he doesn’t roll his—eyes? Head?--in exasperation. He agrees with me, but still insists. I glance back at our possible audience, then carefully reach up and wave my hand over his head; my hand passes through like it would with a candle flame. It’s pleasantly warm, but I snap my hand back.

He lowers his head like he’s looking at me over his glasses and then brushes his hand over his head. It bends back. I hold my hand and watch. “Oh.” So it’s something to do with magic? Or just because it’s his own body? More importantly, I do not know his name and I just stuck my hand through his head. Or the top of his head. His flame? He didn’t react like he had felt it. Did he feel it?

“Did you feel anything when I, uh.” I stop myself as he shakes his head. “Okay.” We stay quiet. I’m still holding my hand, watching his head incredulously. “No offense but that was weird.”

He starts a bit, and then he lifts his shoulders and—and he laughs? There’s no sound, but he quivers a bit and I’m sure, I’m positive, his head opened up to reveal a bright yellow gash. A smile. Like a jack-o-lantern. But then it’s gone, and he’s raising both hands and gently moving them up and down. Placating. Sorry, sorry.

I realize that I haven’t even started my laundry and I abruptly turn and flip the lid of the washer open. I’ve already dumped clothes in when I realize the one next to it is running. There goes the polite distance. I drop the lid and start the washer and I stand there, hands resting on the cold metal. I look at each finger, then look at them again, and again.

Why did I do that? Why did he invite me to do that? Because he couldn’t figure out how to explain it, because he doesn’t talk. He’s—impaired and I just recoiled from the way he tried to communicate. My stomach hurts.

The thunder rolls above us. The rain has started to slow down, but just barely. A bright orange hand slips a piece of paper across the washer.

I glance up at him and he has his head turned towards me expectantly. I look back down at the paper. It’s a receipt that he’s flipped over to the back. _I’m sorry_ is written in pencil and tight, smooth letters. I glance up. “It’s alright.” He points to the paper as if his words hadn’t been clear enough. I frown and look back down, biting back a sigh.

Then I tilt my head. There’s more written there.

_My name is Grillby._

We look at each other. I look back at the receipt and hold it in both hands. As usual, he stands patiently, waiting.

_It’s very late for introductions, but now that I’ve done something more awkward it should be fine._

I laugh. “It wasn’t you. That was all me.” I carefully lower the receipt, as if it might rip if I move too fast.

He holds out a hand. I reach out and shake it. My hand doesn’t pass through. It’s pleasantly warm, as expected. Smooth. Like touching a sun-warmed rock. I stare at his hand and hold it for longer than necessary, stunned. I have no idea what I was expecting, but I can’t wrap my head around this. He doesn’t pull away, and when I look up he’s watching as if he was used to this kind of reaction, the utter bewilderment of how a being made of fire actually works. I nod and shake his hand again. “I’m Linden. Nice to officially meet you.”

We step back from each other. He sits down first, and I sit one seat over. He reads his book, and I sit in my seat, holding the old receipt tightly in my hand, reading the neatly written words over and over again.

My invitation. The password to the secret club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One can't observe a secret club if one is not in it.


	6. Chapter 6

That same night I get a message.

> **mrsansman said**
> 
> _hey newest friend_

I let it sit while I eat a bowl of seasoned baby potatoes—the dinner of disasters. Maybe it wasn’t that weird to get a message from the figurehead of the HTDS and Grillby’s self-proclaimed friend the same night you learn that his name actually is Grillby. Maybe I’m still allowed to be creeped out by it.

Pop! A new one. 

> **mrsansman said**
> 
> _name’s sans._ _g_ _rillbz told me a bit about you. says you’re funny, so you’re good in my book._
> 
> _so i got a link for ya to UnderNet._
> 
> _humans have to be invited, and i’ve been given the honor of passin out the invites on grillbz behalf since he doesn’t wanna join human sites yet._

> **mrsansman said**
> 
> _i think they’re fun, but i’ve always been a bit more social. anyway, here ya go._
> 
> _**mrsansman sent a link** _
> 
> _i promise monster sites are just as fun as human ones. after all, i’m there, but more importantly so is my brother Papyrus. he’s great. if grillbz likes you then my bro will like you, too. he loves meeting new humans. don’t tell anyone else though. this is a special club privilege._

Many new ones.

> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _thanks? this is super creepy no offense._
> 
> **mrsansman said**
> 
> _hey no offense taken, thanks for being honest about it pal. i’m figuring out humans think we’re too friendly._
> 
> _it’s hard to get used to, everyone is friendly underground. everyone knows everyone._
> 
> _you know how it is._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _I think so?_
> 
> **mrsansman said**
> 
> _so how bad am I messing this up?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _I’ll still join UnderNet if that’s what you’re worried about lol_
> 
> **mrsansman said**
> 
> _hey great! for real though, thanks for looking out for grillby._ _he’s the first in uncharted territory after all. we’re all real happy with how it’s turned out._
> 
> _and about my bro…_
> 
> _i just want nice humans like you to teach him about life up here. he tries really hard. it would really mean a lot to me._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _alright. I’ll slide you down the creep scale a bit for that._
> 
> _but it’s not really a club right?_
> 
> **m** **rsansman**
> 
> _nah it just caught on after lita joked about it._
> 
> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _lita?_
> 
> **m** **rsansman said**
> 
> _lilylee._
> 
> _maybe you’ll make some more human friends too. wink._
> 
> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _why don’t you use an emoji or something? you know. ;)_
> 
> **mrsansman said**
> 
> _that’s dirty linden._
> 
> …
> 
> _;)_
> 
> _anyway, just make an account on UnderNet, mark yourself as human, and you’ll be on a roll. i’ve got some stuff to keep an eye on, but i’ll see ya around._
> 
> _oh and don’t stand around in the rain anymore. you’ll get sick._

I slowly set my phone back on the kitchen table. A muffled swell of music is coming from upstairs. Tiny ticks from the clock in the living room. My phone is mercifully silent. The barrage is over. I close my eyes, press my palms together and kiss my fingers in gratitude to the universe for seeing me through that whirlwind of a conversation.

Since learning Grillby’s name there’s been a pit in my stomach and Sans has turned it into a trench. A friendship came with a lot of expectations, and that was without a fan page hyping a person up to be a larger-than-life idea. I still couldn’t shake off the weird turn that had caused me to learn his name either, as much as I'm trying in the name of being considerate and understanding. 

But, this is probably going to be my only chance to clear the air; waiting until next week to bring it back up would be ridiculous. And what if he forgets a pen and paper? Am I going to bring one and basically demand answers?

I need to take a moment. It takes an obscene amount of effort to not take that moment on the fan page, but that slimy feeling hadn’t gone away yet either and ultimately stops me from giving in. Maybe being on a first name basis with him didn’t really change that. Sans had mentioned Lilylee, but she hadn’t made many appearances after posting that now infamous picture. Maybe this slimy feeling was why.

It might be nice to get in touch with her, at least to find out if I’m getting hung up on nothing. First things first, though. I slide my phone closer and click the link Sans gave me. UnderNet is nearly identical to its human counterpart, and I can only assume it’s been updated since coming to the surface because this seems like too much to glean from thrown away media.

The sign-up page loudly declares itself _THE BEST SOCIAL NETWORK FROM THE UNDERGROUND_ and asks me to choose my username and password. I keep it easy. Same across the board. It doesn’t ask for an email, which is a little strange, but maybe monsters didn’t have a reason to use email.

_CONGRATULATIONS ON CREATING YOUR ACCOUNT. FILL OUT YOUR PROFILE!_

Name, birth date, education, job. They’re all optional fields. The only required section consists of two tick boxes.

 _HUMAN._ _MONSTER._

I do what Sans said and check Human. Immediately there’s a popup: _WHO INVITED YOU?_

Alright. Sans did say that humans had to be invited, but I had just assumed the link had been enough. Do I put down Sans? Does it want his UnderNet username? Do I need his last name? I don’t know either of those. Technically, Grillby had asked Sans to send his invite, so do I put Grillby? Now I’m back at the same problem.

I type in Grillby.

_THANK YOU! YOU CAN EDIT YOUR PROFILE AT ANY TIME. ENJOY CONNECTING ON THE BEST SOCIAL NETWORK FROM THE UNDERGROUND._

My page is blank, as expected. It helpfully tells me to write my first status, add my favorite books and movies and TV shows, and search for friends. My friend list has a count of exactly (1), and I assume that it’s the creator of UnderNet but, the icon is decidedly orange. A very familiar shade of orange.

Ding! I almost flinch, but I settle for a cringe. I’m still reeling from Sans.

> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Hello, Linden. Is that actually the right spelling?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _hey Grillby. yeah, it is. did you add me immediately or something?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _No. You put me down as the person that invited you so it added me to your list. I’m the only one named Grillby, luckily._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _oh. how’d you know so fast?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _It sends a notification that the person you invited has joined. They don’t have that on other sites?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _uh, I don’t know actually. not that I noticed?_
> 
> _thanks for inviting me though._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _You’re welcome. Thank you for accepting the invite. I would have understood if you didn’t since we only do laundry on the same day._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _that’s a stronger bonding experience for people than you realize lol_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Shared misery?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _shared misery._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Well, if you hadn’t accepted the invite I might have ended up writing a letter to give you next week._
> 
> _I wanted to tell you personally that I appreciate how kind you’ve been to me these past two months._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _I don’t think I’ve been like, that kind though. I didn’t bother introducing myself to you ever. or try talking to you, really._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Just being willing to be in the same space as I was makes all the difference, Linden. I’m sure you noticed how everyone else was reacting to me._
> 
> **lindrenroller said**
> 
> _right…_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Sorry, is this making you uncomfortable?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _no_
> 
> _I’m not uncomfortable I just feel bad_
> 
> _you guys appreciate every little thing we do that isn’t outright mean and it just makes me feel bad about how things are._
> 
> _or were._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _I see._
> 
> _You have nothing to feel bad about. None of the humans alive today have any responsibility for what happened before. We understand that. It’s just nice to see that you’re choosing to let us back onto the surface, and give us another chance._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _and you’re all giving us another chance._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _That’s right._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _sorry this is depressing isn’t it_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _It’s a serious topic. I have no problem talking about it with friends, though._
> 
> _If you don’t mind me assuming we’re friends._
> 
> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _no. I mean, we’re friendly so we’re technically friends. which is crazy._
> 
> _I uh, was following your fan page from the beginning so_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _lol_
> 
> _You and nearly all of Salis Heights. It really doesn’t bother me. I like seeing people enjoying themselves and having harmless fun. It’s how I met a few people already._
> 
> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _right_
> 
> _Sans mentioned Lilylee_
> 
> _is her name actually Lita?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Yes, according to Sans._
> 
> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _oh. so she didn’t tell you herself._

> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _No. Between you and me…_
> 
> _I think Sans might have scared her off._

So much for confiding in a slime partner.

> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _lol_
> 
> _sorry but that’s probably true. I know you’re friends but something about him is really creepy._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Sans being so familiar with everyone is what made him popular Underground. He has a knack for making people feel like his old friends. Seems like that backfires on the surface._
> 
> _I’ll admit he’s a little… hm._
> 
> _Mysterious._
> 
> _But he’s a good monster, as caring as they come._
> 
> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _yeah he seems really dedicated to his brother._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _He’d do anything for Papyrus. He’d certainly put in his best effort for his friends, too, but Papyrus has always been his top priority._
> 
> _I’m sure you’ll have friend requests from both of them pretty quickly._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _no offense but why are you so much more reserved than Sans?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Maybe because I’m older. I’ve always been more of a listener, anyway._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _...by choice or?_
> 
> _oh my god why did I send that_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _lol it’s okay. A little of both._
> 
> _There are plenty of monsters that are more reserved than Sans, and barring shyness I think it really does have to do with age. Isn’t that true for humans too?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _I mean, not really. I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it too much but it definitely feels like the older you get the more overly familiar you get with people… maybe it’s just the difference in how we’re made._
> 
> _Actually, what humans have you gotten to know from the fan page?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Oh. readredrose and Ollie. They live near me. And I guess you, since you walk to the laundromat, too._
> 
> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _why aren’t they doing laundry with us?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _lol_
> 
> _There’s a lot of reasons they wouldn’t, should we make a list?_
> 
> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _no, I get jealous every time I think of people having a washer and dryer at home._
> 
> _I’m jealous now... lol_
> 
> _hey, actually, why were you doing laundry today when you didn’t do laundry last time it rained?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Unfortunately, I couldn’t move my laundry day this week._
> 
> _Why did you just stand around in the rain instead of coming inside?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> …
> 
> _I was trying to figure out what you were doing there on a rainy day after thinking the building had caught on fire_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> …
> 
> _lol_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _what?? All the windows were glowing because there was actually a fire inside!! it just wasn’t the kind I thought it would be!!_
> 
> _and what’s up with the bendy fire thing?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Ah, I had a feeling that I hadn’t actually cleared anything up._
> 
> _It’s because it’s part of my body, so it reacts to my own touch differently than others. I treat it like hair, so it acts like hair, but it isn’t actually hair. It’s just fire to anyone else._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _okay, that kind of makes more sense but I think this is magic theory stuff that I just can’t understand the details of..._
> 
> _did you actually mean to dry my shoes off?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _I didn’t realize I was doing it. I guess you could say instincts kicked in. I was used to drying people off after coming in from the snow._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _Oh, from living on the mountain?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _From living inside of it, actually._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _sorry what? snow inside the mountain???_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Have you heard anything about Snowdin?_
> 
> _I can tell you more about it, if you like. I know it’s getting kind of late, though._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _yeah, no. you can’t just throw that out there and not expect to explain yourself._

I startle awake sometime later and crack my knee on the kitchen table. A horrible knot is already in my neck and more are starting down my back. I don't remember falling asleep. I remember snow, and presents, and warm fires. My phone is still clutched in my hand, and it vibrates once to let me know that I do have notifications waiting to be checked. More importantly, it lets me know that it's two in the morning. 

> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Oh, it's gotten pretty late._
> 
> _You've been pretty silent too._ _Maybe you already fell asleep..._ _I hope you were already in bed._
> 
> _Thanks for talking with me, Linden. I really enjoyed it. Have a good rest._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grillby seems like he would have a very straight forward username. Plus, he was a business owner, he has to keep that brand going.


	7. Chapter 7

Sleeping bent over a table had lasting effects that weren’t conducive to a restful sleep. Who knew? I fixed up my UnderNet profile during the ride to work, partly because Grillby had been right about getting immediate requests, partly so I wouldn’t knock out on the bus and miss my stop. I had already barely made it out of the house on time, and that had left me no time to load up on the caffeine I desperately needed.

Drowsy as I am, I barely register the monsters that have added me so far. Of course, Sans has a username I recognize and I look at his profile for a bit just to see who else he’s friends with. I don’t exactly know how many monsters there were in the Underground, but his friend count is such a ridiculous number that I have to assume literally every single monster in existence is on that list. Somehow that’s more pressing than the reveal of Sans being a literal skeleton.

Most of his statuses are jokes, or pictures of himself barely in frame and apparently sleeping in increasingly bizarre places. Occasionally someone else is in the picture, and Sans is usually awake and in the bottom of the frame for these. Either he’s short, or he’s always sitting or laying down and refuses to get up to take a picture with someone. Without fail, CoolSkeleton95 tells him to get better at taking pictures or stop posting all of these garbage selfies. Or, at least go home before taking a nap.

I put it together pretty quickly that this is Papyrus, even before I check his profile. He’s not as prolific as his brother, hovering somewhere in the double digits as far as friends go. It’s a stark contrast; all of his selfies are well done if a little, well—I can’t tell if they’re also jokes or if he’s being sincere, but he has a lot of weird outfits and makes liberal use of sunglasses. I recognize some of the monsters he’s taken pictures with as part of the former-royal entourage, and immediately recognize the shaggy-haired kid that broke the barrier.

“ _MY DEAR HUMAN FRIEND AND MY BIGGEST FAN.”_

The picture was three years old. No one had seen that kid out and about since a monster had formally won custody of them; a lot of conspiracy theorists and anti-monster groups claim they’ve been killed. The rest of the world realizes they’re a child and taking unauthorized photographs of them is, in fact, illegal thanks to a court order, so of course, there would be no recent pictures of them.

> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _morning Grillby. Just curious, did you meet the kid that broke the barrier?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _I did. I’m glad things turned out well for them._
> 
> _I hope you slept well._

I don’t know if it’s because it’s early, or if it’s because he just doesn’t do much during the day, but his reply is almost immediate. That’s probably the most surprising thing to happen this morning.

> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _I didn’t lol_
> 
> _thanks for answering my question, btw_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Sure._

I hesitate, hovering over his profile picture. Social media profiles are meant to be looked at, right? Even though I had a chat open with him right now, right? This is the age of technology and social networking, right? Right. There’s nothing stalkerish about this.

I audibly tap the picture.

His profile loads.

It’s almost entirely pictures of food.

It’s early, I’m exhausted, I’m in a cramped bus full of people just as exhausted, and I laugh. The relief of expecting personal, intimate details and discovering he’s a food blogger is almost too much to bear, and extremely, absolutely, stupid.

> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _is it weird I feel like a stalker every time I read anything about you online?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Hm. That’s just how things are. Everything is online. I can read your profile at any time and learn things about you and you’d have no idea._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _yeah you’re right._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _What were you reading?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _oh._
> 
> _just your profile, actually….._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _That’s meant to be read._

I’m absolutely, extremely stupid.

> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _yeah but I also could just talk to you, I literally have a chat open_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _I checked your profile even though we had a chat open. I thought that was normal._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _is it?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _You would know better than I would. I didn’t grow up with the internet. If you asked me decades ago maybe it’d be strange, but I’ve had monsters ask me about someone before they got up the courage to talk to them on their own._
> 
> _Creeping is an ancient practice in both races, I think._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _looool I don’t know how I feel about you saying it like that but you’re right_

The most recent food picture is actually the one that Adam posted on the fan page. There are a lot of comments on it. Like, a lot. Actually, he has nearly as many friends as Sans does. Just skimming through I see a lot of the same sentiments.

_I could definitely go for a burger and fries right now; I miss seeing you passing out burgers; loving the new uniform; when can I get the best food in town from the chef himself again?!_

Curious, I flick back to his profile info.

_Proprietor of Grillby’s, est. 201X. First restaurant of the Underground. First monster business on the surface after the Barrier._

> **l** **indenroller said**
> 
> _wait holy crap grillby how old are you?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Old._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _you were old enough to open a business in 201X????_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Very old._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _you’re still alive???????_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Very much alive, yes. I suspect I have a long time ahead of me if everything goes well._
> 
> _Fire and magic have existed for a very long time._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _oh my god_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _So humans forgot about our lifespans, clearly lol_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _I mean you’re older than a lot of countries??_
> 
> _the oldest humans only live to like 120 and they’re basically corpses and it like never happens_
> 
> _you’re older than a lot of the trees and they’re literally ancient._
> 
> _Grillby you’re ancient._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _I’m very dashing for an ancient man, I’ll admit. I can see why you’re so surprised._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _do you remember the surface before everything?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _I do._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _do you miss it?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Not really._
> 
> _When you live a long time, you aren’t as nostalgic. You remember how things were very clearly. I appreciate how far things have come._
> 
> _There was a lot of suffering then. There are a lot more children now, humans can live to 120 if they’re lucky. That’s amazing compared to how it was back then._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _did you fight in the war?_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _I did._
> 
> **lindenroller sad**
> 
> _I’m sorry._
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _It’s all right. It was a long time ago. I’m happy to be back on the surface and to have human friends again. We’re all very hopeful for the future._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _man_
> 
> _we don’t deserve it_
> 
> _monsters are so good…_
> 
> _oh shit I missed my stop i’ll talk to you later grillby_
> 
> **ItsGrillby said**
> 
> _Take care, Linden._


	8. Chapter 8

It keeps raining off and on for the next few days, which makes the back and forth to work extra miserable, but it’s a lot like preparing for the slog of a winter commute so I try to appreciate the above freezing temperatures while I can, rain or not. I haven’t heard much from Grillby either, but part of that is on me; after drinking some really awful coffee I was able to look back at our conversation and feel a proper amount of shame for asking someone, with no pretense at all, if they fought in a war on the side that lost very badly. I haven’t said anything to him since, and I tell myself that he hasn’t said anything because he really isn’t that talkative and not that he’s just avoiding talking to the human that just casually asks about traumatic experiences.

Maybe it’s a bit of both.

In the mean time I do manage to track down Lilylee, meaning I put her name into the search bar and clicked on her profile when it came up. Of course, everything is private but I send her a friend request anyway. I don’t know if she’ll be able to help me figure anything out, but I am curious about what exactly scared her off. If that’s even what happened.

_Lilylee accepted your friend request!_

I hadn’t even thought of what I was going to say yet. I chew at my thumb, sigh, and with a shrug, I start typing.

> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _hey lilylee, I know this is out of nowhere but I was wondering if you ever got a message from mrsansman?_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _oh hey_
> 
> _uh yeah it was kind of weird. I mean it didn’t start off weird but it got weird._
> 
> _did he creep you out too?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _a little bit. he hasn’t said anything since then, but he did apologize for being creepy. I guess he doesn’t give off that vibe to monsters._
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _they’re probably used to it_
> 
> _did you join it though?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _UnderNet? Yeah._
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _You’re braver than I am._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _what do you mean? did he creep you out that much?_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _I guess so. I mean I guess I didn’t want him to be able to watch me in two places._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _watch you?_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _He was kind of vetting everyone right? I got the feeling he was anyway like. Very much a Big Brother vibe. The always watching you kind not the literal kind._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _I don’t know. I didn’t get that feeling at all. The literal brother vibe yeah since he was like insistent I be friends with his brother._
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _Yeah. I mean he’s a weird guy, that’s not up for debate really. Just the gatekeeper thing he was doing seemed like above and beyond. I didn’t think there was literally a secret club._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _he said he got that idea from you. As a joke._
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _Haha. Great._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _it’s not like there is a real secret club, Grillby just couldn’t send the invites himself._
> 
> **lilylee said**
> 
> _Yeah that’s what Sans told me. I get it, if he wanted people to click a random link he’d have to make it obvious it was his account, but he make the account private or just hide it. Even if someone told the Salis Heights page that it existed, people wouldn’t be able to look him up, right?_
> 
> _And if his profile is private like mine he can control who sends him messages._
> 
> _And at that point why send an invite to UnderNet at all?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _I guess. Grillby’s a good guy though._
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _It’s Sans that I don’t really trust._
> 
> _Actually typing that out made me kind of nervous._
> 
> _Like you said he creeped you out, so you get what I’m talking about right? There’s something off._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _I think everyone thinks he’s creepy_
> 
> _he said a lot of people have told him that anyway_
> 
> _Grillby did say he was kind of mysterious…_
> 
> _but I think he understands why we think he’s creepy because he took a bit to pick ‘mysterious’_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _Yeah mysterious is one way to put it._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _do you think he’s dangerous?_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _I don’t know. Not really. I think he’s just…_
> 
> _Yeah, mysterious. Secretive. But I don’t think he’d like attack me or something. I just don’t like the idea of him watching me which I think he can do._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _???_
> 
> _Like through your camera or something?_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _I don’t know._
> 
> _Maybe. It could just be more that he seems to have access to like information? Or some kind of network?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _wtf like a mafia?_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _I mean now that you mention it… maybe more like a deep web circle._
> 
> _Like I guess you deserve to know about it since you’re dealing with him too now kinda._
> 
> _I was getting messages from people who think I started the fan-page for Grillby/Salis Heights Monsters and they were less than nice._
> 
> _I haven’t said anything about it because I don’t want to like ruin the vibe on the page but I’ve had to send the messages to the police._
> 
> _I thought maybe ‘mrsansman’ was like trying to trick me onto some site that would get my info._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _dude what?_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _yeah so I tell Sans that I'm not dumb enough to click a random link and get doxxed so he can harass me offline too and I was going to block him._
> 
> _And he’s like “wait what” and says he’s a monster and a friend of Grillby’s and since no one else on the page knows his name I was like, okay I guess that’s legit_
> 
> _then he said he would “keep an eye on things” which is like super ominous_
> 
> _but then the accounts that were harassing me suddenly disappeared._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _uhhh what did he do???_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _they were like IP blocked from the site or something. I have no idea if he went above some heads and got them banned or what._
> 
> _but you know how pathetic people like that are, they just keep trying to get around it to bother me, and other people too I’m sure._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _so they were seriously threatening you?_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _not to the point where I’m afraid for my life or anything especially since the cops are taking it really seriously but they’re making it pretty clear that I’m a scummy monster lover and they don’t like it._
> 
> _if I joined UnderNet and it was found out that would probably make it worse._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _holy shit dude_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _yeah tell me about it_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _so other people know about this?_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _I guess anyone else that was getting messages. I don’t know if anyone else was targeted or why they picked me especially. Maybe because I interacted with him in person instead of just talking about him online? I think the people saying I started the page were just stupid._
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _but that doesn’t mean that Sans can spy on you or something_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _oh._
> 
> _no I think that because he asked if I changed a broken lock on a window…_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _wtf??????_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _Like I said Big Brother. I’m just trying to not be involved with any monsters at all right now. But I’m glad that the cops are on the scummy monster lover side… we already did enough to them, you know?_
> 
> **lindenroller said**
> 
> _yeah I do._
> 
> _I don’t think Grillby knows any of this. He did say he thought Sans scared you off but…_
> 
> **Lilylee said**
> 
> _Well Sans wouldn’t have a mysterious reputation if he wasn’t tight-lipped right? I don’t want to think Grillby is some kind of secret agent or something, so it’d be nice if he had no idea about how Sans actually scared me off._
> 
> _But I mean I think he also isn’t stupid even if a lot of humans are trying their best to welcome the monsters back we did immediately put them into internment camps and it’s not a secret that not everyone is happy they got out._
> 
> _So he definitely knows that part is going on._
> 
> _I don’t know why he came out here alone. He’s lucky most of Salis Heights took him as a novelty._
> 
> _It'd be nice if we could be friends soon he did seem really nice._


	9. Chapter 9

It’s Laundry Day.

It’s the first Laundry Day since I learned Grillby’s name; since having two full conversations with him; since learning he is ancient; since learning there is a very real, very dark rumbling that is converging on Salis Heights and its only monster.

But, I haven’t spoken to him in a week. On my way to the laundromat, it does cross my mind that maybe he won’t be there. The fact that he hasn’t reached out to talk is ominous now. If he isn’t there—well I’d have to send him a message first, even if it is weird to ask someone why they aren’t doing laundry. But if he isn’t there, and he doesn’t answer, then he’s moved back towards the mountain.

And that’s that.

Well, no. He could be dead. And I would have a new laundry bag that I would refuse to ever use again. Actually, I’d have a laundromat I would refuse to use ever again.

Oh god.

This is excessive. We barely know each other. How many times have I reminded myself of this already? Chill. Please.

After a very deep breath and rolling my shoulders, I am suitably centered and walk the rest of the way without spiraling into any more catastrophic scenarios. In fact, I am so centered that I barely pause at the laundromat door when I notice he’s not there. It’s not the first time I’ve gotten here first, so I go about my business, which is to walk to the far side of the building, pick a machine, and unceremoniously dump as much of my laundry into it as possible. The bell above the door rings and the lid slips from my fingers and clangs shut.

Some people flinch, but orange light is flickering across the machines, which is still more remarkable than someone dropping a lid for the fifth time that day. I grin and wave, “Hey G--” then I fumble because this is supposed to be a secret, “--irl.”

Mmm, great, yeah. Hey girl. Perfect recovery.

To his credit, he shoots me a finger gun and practically glides over. His face is split by a jagged, bright yellow grin and his flame is literally dancing. It leaps high when he stops at the machine next to mine, and I can feel warmth wash across the entire right side of my body. He’s making very quick, sharp gestures between my bag and his.

“Oh, yeah. I picked it up the other day. I didn’t mean to like, steal your look, but it was the nicest one there.”

He’s still grinning. Even his glasses seem particularly bright, so I can only take his entire demeanor as wide-eyed excitement. It’s charming when I remember he is quite literally ancient, and that I have literally never seen him like this before. I don’t think he’s even used an exclamation point in a single message between us. Or anywhere.

“You’re in a good mood.”

He holds up a finger and reaches for a pocket to take out his phone. It’s a brick. Well, it’s a slim brick, but a brick with a number pad all the same. The only thing it has going for it is the long screen, but it’s definitely not touch compatible. And yet he presses those numbers hundreds of times in a matter of seconds, and my phone pings with a message from UnderNet.

I frown and reach to my own pocket. “You?” He nods, so I check the message.

_Sorry, I was still kind of laughing at you when I realized you got the bag._

“Mm, thanks.”

_I could be laughing with you, but you looked embarrassed._

My mouth is pulled into a tight-lipped, grimace of a smile and I nod. An accurate assessment. I do feel very stupid about it.

_It was genuinely funny._

“It was kind of funny.” There’s still the faint flash of a grin as he sorts his clothes into darks and whites. I don’t have any reason to linger there since my machine was already running, and I don’t have anything else to talk about.

Then again. “I was kind of relieved to see you, actually.” The quiet admission does make him pause, and he very carefully closes his lid while watching me. “I hadn’t heard from you in a while.” He nods slowly and starts his machine, then gestures to the chairs behind us.

He starts his explanation once we’re both sitting down. _I’m sorry. I got a bit caught up in politics, unfortunately, and I lost track of time. I almost forgot today was even laundry day._

“Politics?” I give him a quick glance and scoot a bit closer. This seems like a hushed conversation.

_Well, everything is a little political, even if you’re just a businessman. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed from my last time on the surface._

I lean forward in my own wide-eyed excitement because I’m positive I’ve just solved a monumental mystery. “Wait, did you come here to open a restaurant?”

Even though he’s confirmed my guess with a nod and I am already struggling to muffle my crow of triumph, he still writes a response. _That’s the basics of it. Food is a good olive branch. I moved here because it’s been pretty drawn out. Much shorter commute._

“I mean, you must think they’re going to agree to it or else you wouldn’t have bothered, right?”

_Officials here were very open to the idea. Landlords are another story. I am, after all, made of fire. Also monsters still mostly handle things with our own money. That’s not exactly useful for a human._

“Yeah, I heard about the problems with the conversion.” I sit back and cross my arms. It had been an issue from the beginning of trying to figure out what the exchange rate would be. Understandably, monsters don’t trust human governments to give them what they’re actually worth, and there’s definitely no one running to take the chance that monsters will be the richest beings on the planet.

 _If I do become successful here, it will make it easier for more monsters to move out this way._ He holds his phone in his hands, looking down at his lap. His shoulders are slumped, and he’s started to slide down in his chair. _I just need a building._

“Or a truck.”

 _Or a truck._ I can see that his mouth is pulled into a small smile, now that I’m used to looking for it. _But it’s safer to gather in a building than out in the open._

“Is it?” I don’t really mean to immediately question him, but there’s no point stopping now. “A building is kind of a dead end. At least in the open, you can scatter.” He regards me solemnly for a moment, and I speak up again before he can start typing. “This is really, grim, I’m sorry.”

_It’s this or you ask me why I’m worried about safety._

“I—honestly—I didn’t think a lot about it until recently.” I press the hem of my sweater between my thumbs and forefingers. It’s soft. Acrylic wool. Covered in fuzz that’s a little rough. “I talked to Lilylee.” I pause, expecting a question, but there’s no point in just sending me a message with her username and a question mark. He looks at me quietly instead. “Did you know people had been threatening her?”

It’s harder to see the thin line of his mouth the longer I look at him. A chill runs down my back and I don’t shiver so much as shimmy, which would be hilarious if Grillby’s flame didn’t seem to be bobbing like a low candle. He shakes his head. Barely. I nod, and he shakes his head again.

_Have you been threatened?_

“No. I don’t think anyone knows we talk.” Though, we’ve been having a quiet conversation in public for the past few minutes. I think we both have this realization at the same time because he becomes very still while I try very hard to look at the others in the laundromat without actually turning my head. “The cops already know,” I add. “So it’s okay.”

_I suppose I can stop needling Sans about running off all of my human friends._

“Have more people stopped talking to you?”

_No, I just exaggerate for the sake of bothering him. I’ll have to figure out how to bring this up to them though. Should I?_

At this point, I’m worried if I breathe too much I’ll blow him out he's hardly flickering at all. All of the metal and glass feels colder than usual. “If they’re still talking to you and haven’t said anything, it’s probably fine. Like I said, nothing’s been happening with me.”

_I should at least ask Adam. All of my neighbors that posted online about me got bothered a bit in the beginning, but maybe they’re understating how bad it is._

I almost reach out to touch his arm, but I stop somewhere in a gesture of ‘I’m going to present something to you that may be important’ instead. “Hey, don’t think like that. If it was really that bad, you’d know. There’d be like, a twenty-four-hour watch on your apartment building or something. I mean, it sounds bad, but this is just kind of what we’re used to. Humans just aren’t that great to each other.”

_It does sound bad._

“Sorry. For real, I’m really sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to understand that, you know. I know that things aren’t as great for monsters as people want to believe. And it’s not great for the people that support them either, I guess. But people are still standing by you and other monsters anyway. That’s something, right?”

After a very long stretch of silence, I finally reach out and touch his arm. “Right?”

He lifts his head, and warmth starts to wash over my face and sends me into another shimmy-shiver. There’s a tiny sliver of a smile as he pats my hand and nods. He lingers for a moment, and then his flame gutters and he sits up straight. We pull our hands away. Orange light flickers across the floor and reflects back on us in the windows. I’m struggling to think of what to say next when he suddenly turns to me and takes my hands in his. He squeezes them and gives me a very deliberate, sharp nod.

I’m not sure how, but I know this is one of the most sincere expressions of gratitude I’ve ever received in my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And also the most anime."


	10. Chapter 10

As an ancient businessman, Grillby is actually full of ideas and he is very eager to share them for the rest of our hour together. His restaurant Underground had been small and cozy. Like a log cabin, he explained, to match the rest of Snowdin. But the restaurant at the base of Mt. Ebott was brick and mortar, and nearly twice the size. That had come in handy because his customer base nearly doubled as well, and he wanted a building here that was about that size, too.

_I didn’t need any help running the original, and that was nice. But if I can make jobs for monsters, I will._

He was very hopeful that he would have human customers, and that comparing the prices of his food to human prices might ease the way towards an even exchange rate so he could actually do business with us. Not that he expected it would really be that simple of a one to one comparison.

 _I_ _could_ _give them detailed expenses from every year I’ve been open,_ _but_ _we value things differently. We were so overrun with mushrooms they were practically worthless. But it would be nice to meet in the middle._

That’s where the politics came in. He wasn’t alone either. Plenty of monster business owners were attending meetings and organizing paperwork so humans could better understand their economy. The whole thing sounded overwhelming. It wasn’t exactly a secret that we were in shambles on the economy front, which made me want to drink any time talk of sorting through that mess came up.

Grillby couldn’t be too positive about it either: _We’re pretty much prepared to lose a lot if we’re forced to match you._

That makes me want to drink _**heavily**_. Which I tell him, and he laughs again. Being this close it’s like having a blow dryer pointed at my face. In a nice way. He agrees the subject should be shelved, and he does that promptly by asking what I normally do on Laundry Day, besides the laundry.

“I mean, nothing special. It’s just my day off of work.”

_Same. Well, not that I’m actively working right now, but it’s the day I keep my schedule free._

_Actually, if the rest of your day is free, I’d like you to meet some of my neighbors if you don’t mind eating with us._

“Uh. I mean.” It’s hard trying to stop myself from trailing off into a silent, awkward refusal. Grillby isn’t some guy. He’s a monster, and they are notoriously friendly, so this is definitely an invite with no strings attached. Well. “Who exactly?”

_Pari and Adam. They live in my building. I’m sure you’ve heard of Adam already though._

“Yeah, no, I’ve definitely heard of him already.” I sit for a moment longer, and as usual, he sits and watches me patiently. Except now I can truly see his face, from the thin yellow line of his mouth to the yellow almond eyes behind his glasses. “I want to, just. I’m dressed for Laundry Day.” I gesture to the sweatpants and hoodie ensemble I’m in.

_It’s okay, it’s just at my place. But you can always change and come by later if you want to._

“Are you cooking?” I sit up straight when he nods. “Seriously?” His shoulders shake and his eyes squint in a laugh. Awkward first-time hangouts be damned, I can not let this chance slip by. “Yeah, okay! Do you normally do this? I’m not barging in on something special, right?”

_Lunch with friends is special. But if you mean if it’s a private affair, no. It’s a different crowd every week. This week just happens to be Adam and Pari, and now you._

“Huh, like a mini-restaurant.”

_It’s more of a test kitchen for Surface Food Recipes._

“But you know how to make burgers and fries, don’t you?”

_Monster food is a little different. I can explain it better when I’m cooking._

Almost immediately I find myself checking my phone timer for the dryer. Only two more minutes. “We’ll be done in like, what, ten minutes if we fold slowly? I know you prefer to be careful but I couldn’t really care less, honestly. Then you can tell me all about it.”

_You want to go straight back to my apartment?_

The message makes me pause, and I take a few long moments to stare at my phone before looking up at him. “Yeah is that okay? I mean, that’s what I figured was happening.”

He jolts and starts frantically typing. _No, it’s fine! You were worried about your outfit._

“Oh, no, yeah, I look like a bum for sure. But I’m really interested in watching you cook and stuff. You’re a pretty famous monster, first of all,” I pause to watch him chuckle and shake his head, “and everything I’ve read on your page tells me that it's because of your food. So, yeah, I’m not going to waste time changing my clothes if I don’t have to.”

_You don’t have to._

“Then we’re set. Apart from our laundry.”

As clumsy as a half-text conversation can be, the only real drawback is that once Grillby has his hands full, that’s the end of it; walking while texting is also a problem. So we don’t talk for a while once folding starts. I could have a completely one-sided conversation with him as I’ve done before. He’s said himself that he’s more of a listener partly by choice, so it’s not like he would mind. The thing is that he does seem to actually have a lot to say, and after having full conversations with him it feels strange to go backward. It’s not like I have a story to tell him.

And now that I can hear the hum of the machines again, I remember that we’ve been sitting in our little corner of the laundromat having what appeared to be a very hushed one-sided conversation. And that whether they meant anything by it or not, the other people had probably been watching at some point during the hour. And they were also watching us walk out together, and instead of parting ways with a nod, we both walk away in the same direction, at the same pace.

I think of Lilylee then let the thought pass.

Walking in silence isn’t the worst thing in the world. We’re well into Fall now and most of the streets in Salis Heights are lined with trees that cover everything in a canopy of orange and red. Grillby blends right in, though I am reminded that dry leaves are fairly flammable and can’t help a twinge of worry every time the wind picks more leaves off the trees.

It’s been three years since he’s been on the surface, but I can tell from the tilt of his chin that he’s almost entirely focused on the canopy of leaves and the blue sky beyond. Of course, I’ve been on the surface my entire life and I still love to watch the leaves turn. This walk around the block is one I’ve taken many times before; when the weather is nice, like today, I’ll take the long way home. Salis Heights still has a lot of charm to it, despite the cracks in some of the brick facades, and nearly every sidewalk, and the strange clash of glass and steel with decorative plaster and wrought iron.

Well, let’s be real, it’s the old, worn down feeling that gives it any charm in the first place. The plaster had even been deliberately recreated and replaced on most of the buildings, staving off the full modern aesthetics that other towns and cities have taken on. For a monster that hasn’t been on the surface since long before modern technology made its debut, the desperate hold on the past is probably nice. Even if he still technically predates it.

“Oh, it’s the chicken house.” The casual observation catches his attention, and he stops to look at a wrought iron fence with chicken wire between the bars, and two actual chickens clucking around the yard. “Have you seen them out before?”

He nods, but judging from how he’s standing and watching them trot around he probably hasn’t taken much time to look at them. “They used to have more, but I think people complained about the noise once the novelty of fresh eggs wore off. The yard is too small for more than these two guys anyway.”

I almost start walking again on my own because he doesn’t seem to want to leave. But he flashes a smile and gestures for us to continue. “Having fresh eggs would be pretty novel for a restaurant,” I suggest. He doesn’t react, so I keep going. “But that would be a lot of chickens.” I pause and put a hand on my stomach. “That’s… a lot of chickens to fill all those cartons in the stores huh? Oh man, I’m feeling guilty.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder and smiles. When I look at him he gives me a pat and there’s a crackling sound as he laughs. I can only imagine what he has to say because there must be something, but we keep walking in amicable silence. The chicken house is far behind us when Grillby gestures for me to turn and cross the street at the corner, away from the route that would take us around the block. It’s nearly identical to the block we left behind; row houses between squat two family homes between entire apartment complexes three buildings wide with courtyards and trees.

And then all the way at the end of the street is a six-story building with wrought iron fences around the balconies, and plaster columns flanking the front door. Grillby leads me up the walkway to this one.

There are two unlucky tenants that have patios on the ground level with no fences; the cement is barely visible beneath the carpet of dying leaves, which is the only thing on the patios at all. Hardly a surprise. Though it is a little surprising that one of them has vertical blinds that are turned to let in the light, and let me peek inside. I definitely do not do that and watch Grillby take a small key ring from his pocket and unlock the front door.

He holds it open for me and I step into the small entryway to look at the mailboxes. Twelve people live here. Among them are Delin, who I know is Adam, and Grillby. Who is, of course, Grillby. It’s a little strange that he only has one name now that he’s listed among eleven surnames. Speaking of Grillby though, he’s ever the gentleman and closes the door behind him so it doesn’t slam shut. The second door is metal, and it makes me feel better that he’s not living in such an old building that it’s just cheap wood all the way through.

That one is also promptly unlocked, and it reveals a very small carpeted hallway with an apartment door on our left and the carpeted stairs on the right. He leads me down the short hallway, and we turn to go up the stairs. The second unfortunate tenant’s apartment is right there at the foot of the stairs which is absolutely awful. It’s the same set up all the way up to the fifth floor, at which point I’m absolutely baffled.

“There’s no elevator here?” The look he gives me is almost a grimace, and that’s enough for me. “Holy shit, that sucks.” I almost tell him that his apartment better be amazing to make up for it, but I bite my tongue and wait for him to unlock the door. It’s also metal, painted cream, with a shiny, gold number 9 on it. He pushes the door open and invites me inside with a sweep of his hand.

It’s incredibly plain, but also incredibly bright. The patio doors let in a ton of light, and a view of all the red and orange leaves. He doesn’t have much furniture; a love seat, an armchair, a dark wood dining table that could maybe seat four. I politely toe off my shoes and peek into the kitchen to my right. For a chef, I can only imagine this is actually hell.

He has a little rolling island because there’s almost no counter space. The fridge is small, and so is the stove which is electric of all things. A microwave is set into the wall above it, cutting into a chunk of cabinet space. The only nice thing about it is the large window that looks out onto a little courtyard with more trees, and an identical building across the way.

I don’t want to lament the sorry state of his kitchen, so I say the only thing I can think of: “It’s really bright!”

I can hear him pretty much sizzling behind me, and when I turn to the doorway he’s rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the small cabinets and the dingy yellow light he’s flicked on. “Grillby, you have to be a millionaire to have a kitchen nicer than this in an apartment. Hell, I don’t even have a wall.” I pat the wall the stove is set against, which separates the kitchen from the living room and dining space.

He puts his hands on his hips, then walks to the fridge. He takes out a grocery bag and then gestures for me to follow him out. He shakes his head when I go to put on my shoes which is confusing, but he takes the two steps across the hall and knocks on door number 10. I look down at my socks and then step into the hallway, closing his door behind me.

There are a few moments of silence, and then the locks click and the door opens. “Hey, Grillby. Oh, hey, new friend?” As if in answer Grillby steps to the side and gestures between me and resident number 10, who is a very tall black man with a lot of dark, kinky hair. “I’m Adam.”

“Oh! I’m Linden.”

“Come on in,” he steps to the side and Grillby goes in first, maybe to save me from awkwardly walking into a stranger’s place with no idea of what to expect. In just my socks no less. But Adam doesn’t seem to think much of it. Actually, we’re pretty much wearing the same thing.

“Oh, wow.”

Compared to Grillby’s apartment, Adam’s is bright and very full. He has shelves with knick-knacks, books, games and more books. There are colorful movie posters and personal photos on the walls. A bright rug and a boldly colored couch and chair liven up what I know would be an otherwise antiseptic living room.

More surprising is that there is no separation between his living space and the kitchen. Unlike mine, however, his counters continue on into a peninsula. Everything in it practically sparkles. It even had fake wood floors instead of laminate tile.

“Yeah, it looks nice, but I pretty much pay with my blood,” Adam shrugs. “What do you expect, though?”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised about that at all. Did you redo all this recently?”

“Nah, I never would have gotten approval for it. I think it was someone related to the landlord in here before me.” He waved to the seats lined up at the peninsula. “Go ahead and sit down. Grillby likes the audience.”

I laugh. “Is that true?”

Grillby looks at me as he finishes setting his ingredients on the counter. I’m pretty sure I see him wink before he turns to get a knife. I stand at the counter instead, trying to figure out what exactly he’s cooking. I recognize potatoes, and ground meat, and—lettuce of some kind? Maybe? Raisins?

Adam is behind Grillby at the fridge, and there’s the sound of something being poured. “Linden, do you want water or something else?”

“Um. Like what?”

He looks a bit dumbfounded, then looks back at the fridge. “Right, my bad. Uh, got some cans of cola, cans of beer, cans of wine.”

I cut him off with a laugh. “Canned wine?”

“Well, I try to keep it classy.” He smiles, but he’s glancing between me and the fridge and his hand holding the door open.

I wave a hand towards myself. “Yes, hit me up with the classy wine.” A chilled can is carefully slid across the counter in my direction. “What’s for lunch, by the way? Are those raisins?”

Grillby laughs and Adam protests to the idea of raisins in his lunch. I pop the tab on my wine, and watch a moment of debate between taking out his phone or just letting me wonder. He turns to Adam and starts moving his hands. I realize quickly, and with no small amount of shock, that he’s signing. Adam translates quickly. “It’s a stew recipe Pari gave him. They’re not raisins. But they are currants—man that’s still gross, but I’ll trust you.” Even though Grillby can hear, he still used sign to disparage dried fruit.

I sit down and let the cold aluminum of the can chill my hands. I don’t know sign language, but I can only assume it must be easier for him than typing out his responses on that ancient number pad. Grillby pulls on a pair of disposable plastic gloves and starts carefully washing all of the vegetables down. Adam sits next to me with a can of beer. He tips his can towards me and I return the gesture. “Classy afternoon drinking,” he quips. We both take a long drink. “You’re the Laundry Friend, right?”

I’m surprised. I didn’t think Grillby would be bringing me up in conversation, let alone as a friend. I smile, holding my drink near my mouth in case I need to hide a really embarrassing grin. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Man, I need one of those. Maybe I’ll start doing laundry the same day as you guys.”

“Do you wait ‘til the end of the week?”

“Yeah. Kinda embarrassing, but I do it at my mom’s house. I visit her for dinner on the weekends.” He laughs and leans back in his chair. “Like, don’t get me wrong, it’s nicer than a laundromat cause I can watch TV or take a nap or whatever, but I get a lot of lectures on how I wash my clothes.”

“Don’t sort them?”

“Hell no.”

I lift my can. “Hell yeah.”

Grillby gives us both a long stare as he dries off the potatoes. We both get the message pretty clearly and hide behind our drinks. “Grillby told me that we’d be at his place, but uh, this is decidedly not.”

“You saw his kitchen?” Adam raises an eyebrow and Grillby lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t cook a lot, so of course I’m gonna let a chef use it. If this place had another bedroom I’d just tell him to bring his mattress over.”

“Why’d you rent this place if you don’t really like cooking? That’s the selling point, isn’t it?”

“Well, it looks real good when I bring people home,” he laughs. The dull thud of a knife chopping up potatoes underlies our conversation. “For real though, I did pick this place telling myself I’d be cooking a lot, but that never happened.”

“Too busy, or just too lazy?”

“Too busy, but now it’s gotten to the point where I’m so used to instant food I’m lazy, too.” He turns his can on the counter, a sharp metallic sound that almost mimics a knife. “I made the mistake of doing advertising.”

I can’t stop myself from laughing, incredulous. “Isn’t that a ton of money though?”

“If you’re at the top.” He makes a face and sighs. “I’m not at the top. Mostly I just work myself to death for the chance at a promotion. What do you do?”

I pull my mouth into something between a frown and an understanding smile. “Event coordination.”

He hisses in sympathy, and we both raise our cans again. “Pari’s probably got it the worst,” he admits. “She’s a barista.”

My laugh turns into a groan very quickly. “Oh no. Is that why she’s not here yet?”

“Yeah, she’ll meet us at Grillby’s by the time he’s done cooking, probably. He’s always got his timeline perfect, somehow.”

“It’s because he’s ancient. He’s had tons of practice.” Adam laughs and I hear a long sizzle from Grillby’s flames that’s probably a sigh. “So he cooks here, and then we go back to his place to eat?”

“He has the bigger table.” He sweeps a hand over the peninsula we’re sitting at. “This is all I got. Nice diner vibe, don’t get me wrong, but it’s uh. I don’t want to feel like I’m actually at a restaurant when I’m eating with my friends. Even if one of them is a legit chef with a restaurant.”

The chef has already neatly chopped everything and is mixing something that looks like cream in a small bowl. But I’m pretty sure it isn’t because I can smell the very distinct, sour tang of vinegar. He sets it aside and takes a frying pan and a pot from a lower cabinet, which he promptly fills with water. For a while Adam and I quietly watch him fry up the ground meat, toss in diced potatoes, scallions, chopped garlic, a mystery spice, and a mystery paste.

I smack my hand on the countertop in alarm. “Wait!” Adam jumps but Grillby is unbothered. “The stove isn’t on!”

Still completely unbothered, Grillby looks at me and winks again. Adam is nice enough to lean back in his chair like it never happened. “Oh, yeah, I don’t even notice anymore. It’s pretty wild. Look, if you lean down, you can see it.” We both tilt to the side, but my face is almost pressed to the counter. There’s a bright flame literally attached to the bottom of the pan, and the pot as well. “That’s all him.”

“Is this what makes it magic food?”

I get a noncommittal shrug and head tilt from Grillby. But while his hands are busy, Adam is happy to pick up the explanation. “Oh, is this the magic food lesson? Yeah, alright, so that’s kinda part of it.” He actually leans forward and rubs his hands together. “Monsters are made of magic, right? And everyone’s always saying you put a little of yourself into what you make right?”

I nod, looking between Adam and Grillby tossing the meat and potatoes in the pan before dropping in the mystery greens that I’m still not sure isn’t lettuce.

“So he’s using some human food, but some monsters can actually make food. Like, they made those vegetables.” He’s moving his hands between gesturing to Grillby cooking and making vague shapes that might be food. “So, there’s already magic in it from that, but the more he works with the human food, it’s gonna be soaking in some magic, too. When they were underground, everything was saturated in magic, right? But everything’s gotta be saturated from the start up here.”

“So it’s like...” I trail off, frowning. Grillby has covered the pan and has moved on to pouring something into the pot of boiling water. “It’s being coated in his magic?”

“Well, magic in general. See, it used to be the same up here,” Adam leans forward, pointing to the counter. “That’s how come we had the magic to do what we did. But no one has that now, right? Pretty much all the magic was _also_ sealed under the mountain.”

“Yeah but some people that live by the mountain were always claiming that they were able to do magic,” I point out. “Like, selling healing stuff, or doing spells and stuff.”

“Right! And that was probably kind of true, but it wasn’t that strong. So a lot of people think that now that the mountain is open and the monsters are back, that everything will be saturated in magic again. Which _means_ humans will have magic again.”

“Okay, but does that mean all food is gonna be magic food? Why would we have a digestive system if we evolved to eat magic food that just dissolves?”

“It’s only magic food if a monster makes it because they’re literally made of magic. We can’t even compare. Not even back then.”

“I don’t get it.”

Adam turns in his chair, eyes bright and face serious. “Okay, so, everything is already saturated in some magic right? But when a monster creates something, they’re putting even more magic into it, so it becomes magic food. We never had enough magic to do that, so everything we made is just the same kind of food we’ve always had. We can’t survive off of magic alone, so we have to eat food we made ourselves.”

“Okay.” I frown, reaching for my wine. “Okay, but can a monster also make just regular food we can survive on?”

Grillby looks up from his pot of—something—that he was stirring. He sets the spoon aside and starts signing. Adam diligently translates: “It’s difficult but he’s done it before, for—uh, the first child. It takes a lot of control to stop magic from seeping into something you’re creating, and he’s been out of practice.”

There’s a small beat of silence. “Why did you stumble over the ‘first child’?”

Adam frowns, looking at Grillby. “He used a sign I didn’t know at first. Is this the monster sign for first child?” He mimics the sign perfectly, and Grillby nods.

There’s something about the topic that makes me immediately jump for a new one. “Monsters have their own signs?”

“Oh, yeah, every community does.” Adam leans against the counter and takes a drink of his beer. “We’ve actually been practicing for a while, the sign language he knows is a mix of Monster and, you know, ancient. Like, a lot of signs stayed the same, but there were a lot of new ones he didn’t know, and old ones that kinda fell off.”

“I wanna learn.” The declaration is firm, and I reinforce it with a tap of my can against the counter.

Grillby’s smile is bright and immediate, and his signs are quick. Adam grins as well. “Yeah, he’ll totally teach you. Me too,” he adds quickly, “and we can get Pari and Deetz in on it, too.”

I smile against my can of wine. Kind of a secret language for the kind of secret club.

While lunch is being finished, Adam gets a jump start on the lessons by teaching me the basics. Greetings, Introductions, Polite Questions. I’ve never had to use my hands for detail work, and I have to force my fingers to keep the shape of some of the letters, or carefully adjust my hand placement to make sure I’m not accidentally using an insult (so by extension I’m also learning insults).

There’s a brief moment where Grillby is simply waiting for things to finish cooking, and he teaches me a few as well. SOUL, Boss Monster, fire magic, blue magic, green magic, Underground, Barrier. He has a very fond expression on his face when he teaches me Broken Barrier and Last Human.

Adam starts his second can of beer and washes the dishes, and I start my second can of wine and talk about living in the city. The entire time I’m only getting hungrier, smelling the spiced meat and listening to it sizzle in its pan. I had completely missed that he had put anything in the oven, but more alarming was Grillby reaching inside and pulling out a tray barehanded. Even Adam had yelled in surprise, before we both hung our heads, and giggled, and rubbed our faces in embarrassed relief.

I realize as he’s setting out four bowls to fill that I hadn’t really watched him cook. But I watch him carefully as he very carefully spoons portions of couscous and meat, and it’s strong, savory gravy into each bowl. Grillby has always held himself with calm composure, at least I thought. There’s no tension in his shoulders and gentle ease to his movements. Even his flame seemed to move gently, the steady burn of a candle compared to the sharp blaze of a burn pile.

In a kitchen, he radiates comfort. When Adam gets him a serving tray and he places each bowl down with practiced care, it’s almost like watching someone put a bow on a gift. After placing two pita chips on each bowl he steps back and puts his hands on his hips. I clap immediately. Adam puts one hand on the counter and uses his phone to take a picture.

“This smells so good, man. I’m ‘bout to eat dried currants and love it,” he says. “I’m pretty sure you could make anyone eat anything, Grills.” He pauses and puts his phone away. “Pari’s on her way up.”

“Perfect timing,” I point out.

“As usual.” Adam is practically brimming with pride as he picks up the tray of food and heads to the door. I carry our cans of booze. Grillby passes both of us to open the door and lead us back to his apartment. There are footsteps coming up the stairs, muffled thuds against the carpet.

“Ooh, I can smell it already!” A cheerful voice calls. It sounds like they’ve broken into a run. Grillby ushers us into the apartment and waits for the final guest. “What is it? The stew?” Pari is short, dark-skinned and her dark hair is cut in a bob.

She pulls Grillby into a one-armed hug before stepping inside and toeing off her shoes. She sighs in excitement. “Yes, it is! You little blessing.” She slides a backpack off her shoulders and onto the floor and finally looks our way. She grins, and her entire face lights up.

I recognize her smile almost immediately, and a moment later a look of recognition crosses her face, too. “Apple Cider! Hi!”

“Hey.” I raise both of my hands in a wave like a normal person does. Grillby and Pari join Adam and me at the table. “Small world, huh?”

“Seriously. Did you come all the way out here for lunch?”

“No, I actually live pretty close.”

“What? No way! That’s a seriously small world,” she laughs and pushes her hair behind her ears.

Finally, Adam speaks up: “Apple Cider?”

“Oh. Yeah, every morning they come in and order a medium hot apple cider with whipped cream before they go to work,” Pari explains. “And they get it cold in the summer, too. No whip, of course. We just never really got around to introducing ourselves.”

Grillby signs quickly: “Sounds familiar,” and then he openly laughs at my embarrassment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break. Valentine's day is a very long and draining affair when you're a florist.

Laundry Day Lunch becomes a regular thing very quickly. Adam, Grillby and I are the only regulars, but Pari comes by as often as she can. I meet Deetz, another tall man with very large brown eyes that always wears a baseball cap. I’m informed that Deetz is his last name, but in the weeks that I see him, I never learn his first name.

I meet Wren only once; broad, taller than Pari but shorter than Deetz, with very long brown hair that she keeps in twin plaits down her back. She says almost nothing about herself and leaves early.

That’s that, I guess.

As nice as it is to suddenly be in a new group of friends I still prefer talking to Grillby in semi-privacy at the laundromat. Sometimes to just want to sit in front of a fire on your own.

He’s infinitely patient with my slow progress in signing, too. I still talk out loud to him so he knows what I’m trying to say, but I’m also holding out hope it will make it easier for me to associate the right gestures with the right words. When I make a mistake he’ll sign back what I’ve said and put emphasis on the correct gestures, and then I repeat myself. It’s slowed down our conversations considerably but he always looks so pleased by the effort that I don’t mind.

Today though I’m setting a new record for mistakes, and even though Grillby’s patience never wears thin, mine does. “I fucking hate this, why can’t I get it?”

Grillby puts his hands over mine and gently manipulates my hands into the correct gesture of the appropriate version of fucking that I’m looking for. I slap my hands down on my knees and sigh in frustration.

“ _You’re second-guessing yourself.”_ His smile is sympathetic. _“And it looks like you haven’t slept in days.”_

“It’s the group text.” I had been pretty excited about being invited all those weeks ago, and it was easy enough to mute the conversation when I needed a break. The problem was the topic of conversation was almost always about the problems Grillby and other monsters were facing in trying to open their businesses here. All I could think about were conversion rates, and scummy landlords, and a completely stagnant human government.

“ _I appreciate everyone’s support, but you’re all taking on too much stress with this.”_ He has to sign this for me twice, which just makes me feel worse. _“They’ll give in eventually.”_

“They shouldn’t have to give in, the should just be good people for once. We’re so shitty to you.”

Grillby scowled. _“It’s not We.”_ His expression lightened slightly at my evident confusion. _“That’s the correct sign for we. You shouldn’t say we’re so shitty. You haven’t been shitty, ever. Do you understand? You’re a good person, Linden. You and so many other humans are good.”_

Laundry Day Lunch is a four-person affair thanks to Deetz, but I don’t pay much attention to the conversations. They aren’t as lively as usual anyway, and Deetz is quick to blame the weather. “It’s frigid already, dude. Now I’ve gotta work my ass off to get as much done as possible before winter gets here early, or I’m gonna be _freezing_ my ass off.”

“Well, you gotta at least get the walls up on that place, man,” Adam agreed. “I can’t do anything to stop the holidays from coming early though. And they are gonna come early. They’re earlier every year.”

I don’t tell them that they’re part of the reason I’m losing sleep. Instead, I check my phone for any news about progress for monster businesses. There isn’t much, just links about rumors of the mayor establishing provisions for their own conversion rate if the national government wouldn’t step up.

And then there’s a familiar Pop!

> **_LilyLee sent you a link_ **
> 
> _ **LilyLee said** _
> 
> _Just saw this on the fan page. You’ll probably hear from Sans too._

The post is a picture and a video, but I don’t watch it. I can’t watch it, actually, because as soon as I recognize the floor to ceiling windows and the stupid blue plastic chairs I immediately have tunnel vision. I’m not sure how I recognize that before anything else.

> _**mrsansman said** _
> 
> _i’m sure you saw already. it’s already coming down._
> 
> _**lindenroller said** _
> 
> _what the fuck_
> 
> _**mrsansman said** _
> 
> _it’ll be fine_
> 
> _**lindenroller said** _
> 
> _what the fuck sans_
> 
> _**mrsansman said** _
> 
> _i’m taking it down, it’s fine_
> 
> _ **lindenroller said** _
> 
> _iterally it’s not, someone has pictures of me that they can just post anywhere???_
> 
> _and a video???_
> 
> _people already saw it they saw the name of the laundromat they know where it is_
> 
> _**mrsansman said** _
> 
> _okay can’t deny that._
> 
> _but i promise everything is gonna be fine and you don’t gotta worry._
> 
> _you just gotta change laundromats._
> 
> _or keep going that’s up to you._
> 
> _**lindenroller said** _
> 
> _i’m not gonna go where some creep recorded our fucking conversation_

“Linden?” Adam is frowning. I realize that they’ve probably been watching my rapid-fire texting for a while now. That makes me want to gag. But when I look at Grillby he’s also staring down at this phone. Adam notices this, too. “What? Did something happen? Did we miss a news alert or something?”

Grillby looks up at me. For the first time in a long time, I can’t see his face.


End file.
